


The Shadow on the Snow

by neuxue



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (and if you kill all authors involved), Gen, I had to hear some astonishingly bad takes so this is what happens, IT MAKES SENSE IF YOU WANT IT TO, Spoilers for Season 8, meta thinly disguised as fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 12:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18660448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neuxue/pseuds/neuxue
Summary: No one left to know, no one left to love, nowhere left to go. (Or: the one where Arya's journey has always led her here)





	The Shadow on the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> In which the hill I die on is, apparently, 'no, wait, I can make this work'.

_My watch has ended._

  


Who are you?  
No one.

  


_He reclaims his life on a killing field, fighting for sky from a bed of corpses; surrounded by death he hears his own heartbeat and feels the gentleness of his breath against the terrible stillness around him and in that difference he knows he is—_

  


She reclaims her name at the tip of a blade, drawing fragments of herself out of vengeance and memory; surrounded by betrayal she knows her own heart and in that difference she knows she is—

  


_—Alive_

  


—Arya, of House Stark

  


_He turns his back to the Wall, for he has met his oath, his life given to the Night's Watch. He is reborn and the long night comes; he knows, now, the relief of true dawn after cold and dreamless darkness._

  


She takes her name again within the walls of Winterfell, amongst those she knows and those she loves, and she remembers namelessness, facelessness. Remembers Braavos and blindness and the world open to her, pledged as she was to no House and no keep and no man, to no cause but the last and greatest of gifts.

  


_My watch has ended, says Jon Snow, and someone else journeys south, someone else rises from that battlefield of bastardy, someone else lifts a crown-heavy head to a new life, a new duty, another chance. Snow, Stark, Targaryen--names swirl in his head but always to the steady beating of a heart all his, the gentle breath of a life unfettered._

  


She remembers her brother of the Wall, whom she had tried so hard to reach, and watches him loose his black cloak like a discarded mask, watches him leave himself behind and begin anew. They do not speak of it, but then, they have never needed to.

  


_He has seen and dealt enough of death. His life has been a dagger as his name was once a shield, both bound to war and fate sealed before his birth. But he is reborn now, and renamed, and his fate is his own, and he watches death no longer but turns towards the dawn. The war is not ended but his fight is here, with the life he has been given for the lives they can yet save._

  


She is Arya of House Stark, faceless no longer, and she cleanses her home of enemies but still a faceless, nameless shadow remains. Still she is drawn north, always north. The winter is in her blood and death is in her hands and she wields them both, refusing any longer to be wielded.

  


_His watch is ended, but he has not abandoned his people._  
  
_(Snow, Stark, Targaryen. Commander, bastard, king). Jon. His watch is ended but his sword is drawn and his crown gives weight to the words of what he has seen, and to him at last they listen._

  


Her name is reclaimed, but she has not renounced her god.  
  
(Underfoot Horseface Arry. Salty Squab Weasel. No One No One No One) Arya. Calm as still water, swift as a deer, silent as a shadow. Sure and steadfast as a Stark.

  


_So here he stands, sword drawn and facing south and looking ever skyward: a dead man reborn, a lonely loyalty rewarded, standing by choice at last to bring the land to dawn._  
  
_He watches her go, as he has done before. His wayward wilful sister to whom he once handed a sword and who has now taken up his watch: death to face death, for his task now is life. He watches her go, his sister whom they tried in confusion to name and who has at last named herself true, true as her blade and her aim, taking the freedom he never could._

  


So here she stands, where the wind and wolves have brought her: a faceless man renamed, against the nameless face of winter, against the ghost of a memory silenced by snow.  
  
Here she stands, against what she might have been, led by a different god to the same path. But her name sings around her in the howling of wolves and her brothers' screams. If the wind sang this creature's name, he no longer remembers. His face is lost and his watch is neverending and she knows the emptiness in his eyes, the emptiness of one with no one left to know, no one left to love, nowhere left to go.  
  
But she has journeyed through that emptiness and returned, and if she cannot give him a name, there is one gift she can still bestow.  
  
So she gives him the greatest gift her god can give.  
  
She gives him the greatest gift a god can receive.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. I haven't even seen the episode. I haven't even seen any of this season. I woke up this morning giving no fucks whatsoever who kills the Night King, but enter a day spent listening to some astonishingly bad takes and here I am, defending the honour of Arya Stark via fic because A Girl Gives No Fucks. Is this why D & D wrote it this way? Is this what GRRM intended? The real question is: do I care? (The answer to all of the above is: no).


End file.
